Monday 27 June 2005

the circus

been two weeks since i moved into my new house now. it sucks that i don't see adam during the week anymore. when we do see each other it's so much better now though.

anthony contacted me on monday. i let him talk and waited to hang up. he's called out a mental health worker for his mother. i know what she's like - she's got severe paranoia, but she's harmless.

i just smile and nod when she talks about the people who come and inject fat into her thighs and the cameras on her eyes and the people who come and steal from her in the night.

she ties her windows and doors shut with rags and super glue. if that's what makes her feel safe then why not just let her get on with it? but no. anthony knows best.

on wednesday adam came down to my new house and we went for a meal at this carribean restaurant called ochis. then we went to the circus and drank a bottle of red wine. we've got this way of talking about feelings without mentioning them. it's strange. confusing too. when the converstion ends he seems satisfied and i'm left puzzled.

i wouldn't change him for the world. not a thing. i really want to take things further. i know it'll be so special. like he is.

Wednesday 15 June 2005

moving on

i'm guessing it's wrong that while sitting on my patio step having my last cigarette in my old house, all i could think of were the memories of anthony and i. it made me very sad.

the primary one was of the new year just gone, when i sat in the very same place, smoking the same brand of cigarettes, crying uncontrollably. that was meant to be mine and anthony's anniversary of the night we met. we didn't quite get there though. ironically, he was with alison that night instead.

i phoned him. we talked for hours. he got out of prison on his birthday. he's on sick leave again with more pills for his depression. him and victoria are over. she said she couldn't cope with his shit anymore. i sympathise with her.

if he'd just sort himself out he wouldn't be such a loser. cos that's what he's turned into. should i feel guilty that this happened to him while he was with me? oh well. oops.

and there's adam. i don't ever want to do anything to hurt him. i care about him too much to jeopardise what i've got with him. it's too special. he is too special.

i said goodbye to anthony knowing very well i'd never ring him again and i'd never make an effort to see him. i won't tell him my new address.

i'm sick of this lingering feeling when i know that all i really want is to be with adam.

Tuesday 7 June 2005

adam the teacher/lover

the whole time adam's parents were away, we spent the time together in his house. i loved it. i think it brought us a bit closer together. it definitely helped move things forward a bit. physically speaking.

every single morning i woke up next to him, i smiled. and he smiled. and we moved closer to each other and closed our eyes again, together.

it was beautiful. i wanted to lie with him all day. sometimes i did.

i feel like he's teaching me so much. i'm learning to be myself with him, and in turn, i'm learning a lot about myself. stuff i never thought i needed to know. but i do. and it makes me see things differently.

he's so special.

i've never met anyone like him.

Thursday 2 June 2005

the asylum

when i got home last tuesday - the day of my last entry - i opened my front door to find a letter with my name and address written across the front sitting on the carpet, waiting for me. it was familiar, but i didn't recognise it.

i remember picking it up and turning it round with my fingers; intrigued. the postage mark said Anglia. whoever sent it knew that my middle name is May. i sat down at my dining room table and looked at it for a while. i started to feel ill. i wasn't sure why though.

i opened it.

Hello Hannah - sorry, Princess Hannah. Guess who? Anthony. Guess where I am?

Colchester Prison.

he has this cruel way of making me feel so bad for him when he's in trouble. apart from the phone call a few weeks ago, this was the only time he'd contacted me for months. now, though, he needed something. you see? now, he's lonely. now, he doesn't have victoria there. now, he's bored.

the next day i went out and bought the magazines and the stamps he asked for. after my english exams i sat in a cafe in durham waiting for my bus to arrive. i wrote him a letter. then ripped it up. and another. and ripped it up. i was so angry in those letters. i talked about me and him and victoria and adam. and dalziel. i was so angry.

in the next letter i stuck to safe topics. my exams. the moving date. my dog, lucky. his mother. his uncle. it was all so fake. he'll know that when he reads it. when i send it, of course.

the night before i received his letter i dreamt about him. he was in a mental asylum and he asked me to visit him. i did. everything was grey. it was raining outside. he was crying. he couldn't stand up because he was so weak. i sat down beside him.

he told me i had to prove to everyone that he wasn't crazy. they'd made a mistake. i should have been there instead. he begged me to confess. i stood up and walked away. and left him there. my footsteps echoed and his wailing pierced my ears. and i smiled.

he deserves everything he gets.